Chaos Among the Vines (Romancing the Vine Book 2) Page 8

She laid her fingers on the handle, drawing calm breaths to convince herself to get in the car. Trepidation slogged up her spine like a worm. The idea of climbing in the car for the long drive north caused her heart to stutter. Another residual effect of having been homeless. She’d spent those months constantly worried. Her experience wasn’t anything she ever forgot. She could handle short drives around town. But for longer drives, like what she was about to undertake, she typically needed more time to psyche herself up.

  No hope for it today. They had to get out of town before trouble came banging at her door again, courtesy of her mother.

  For the first three hours of the trip, Avalon had kept a constant watch on traffic in her rearview mirror, terrified that Bad-Ass had arranged for someone to watch her house, and follow her. Seeing out the back window was difficult with the amount of crap from Guin’s life she’d shoved in. There was only about six inches of clear vision available.

  But the further she drove from L.A., the more she relaxed. Unease from being in the car for hours still sat heavier on her stomach than Bad-Ass’s intrusion. Thankfully, the tight knot in her shoulders eased. So far, it looked like they’d made a clean getaway.

  She stopped for lunch and gas at two-thirty in the afternoon, her butt tingling from sitting so long. After she’d filled the tank, she went inside to pay cash.

  Guin was at the counter with snacks and a couple of sugary drinks. She dug through her handbag, then heaved a distracted breath and zipped up her purse. “Ava, sweetie. I guess I’ve left my wallet in the car. Can you pay for this?”

  She eyed Guin’s bag. Even if the wallet was in the car, there wasn’t any money in it. “You’re going to have to earn your keep once we get to Cloverdale.” Avalon added a bottle of water, a protein bar, and a large iced coffee to the pile on the counter.

  “Who would hire me?” Mom complained as Avalon paid for their purchases.

  Taking the iced coffee and nodding her thanks to the clerk, she handed her mother the paper bag containing the rest of the junk food. “I’m sure you can find something.” But would she? It wasn’t like she could offer her former employer as a reference.

  The longer she remained in the car with her mother, the higher her frustration and ire rose. Especially when Guin decided peanuts in the shell made a nutritious lunch and happily cracked them open, carelessly brushing the mess from her lap.

  Even over the road noise, Avalon heard each piece dropping to the floorboards like rocks. “Mom, please. Couldn’t you have picked a less messy food item?”

  “But I love peanuts.” With a timid smile, Guin offered the bag to Avalon.

  I’m not going to let this bother me. She couldn’t allow the present situation to pull her back to the past, where despite her mother’s best efforts to make their rolling residence seem like an adventure, she lived in terror every night when they parked in a deserted lot. Avalon’s sweaty palms slipped on the steering wheel. Most mornings, she’d been jolted awake by cops tapping on the windows, insisting it was time to move on.

  When Avalon shook her head, Guin relented and crinkled the cellophane wrapper closed, pulling out a candy bar instead. Then, while she munched her way through the six billion empty calories, she fiddled with the radio. She’d find a station, sing along for half of a song, then flip to a new station.

  The disordered listening pattern played havoc with Avalon’s nerves. Never hearing a song to completion annoyed her worse than reading only half a book. Which was another of her mother’s character traits. She never seemed able to finish anything she started.

  For Avalon, every task had a beginning, middle, and end. Not achieving one of the parts of a project was . . . unsettling.

  Heavy traffic around San Francisco slowed their progress, delaying Avalon by thirty minutes on her mental schedule. The anxiety of being late was almost more than she could bear. Repeatedly, she scrubbed her damp palms over her jeans-clad thighs.

  The phone resting in Avalon’s lap and the watch on her wrist buzzed at the same instant. She raised her hand to check out the preview. “The bank just wired the payment,” she told Guin.

  “Oh goody. That’s half the battle.” She patted Avalon’s elbow.

  The tap of her mother’s fingers was worse than the sharp rap of Avalon’s heart against her ribcage. “Or, your former boss could see it a declaration of war.” Spirits sinking under the very thought, she pressed harder on the accelerator, speeding away from the problem, just like her mother had for years.

  Finally, as it neared four in the afternoon, and the sun was hitting her vision at a powerful angle, she turned into the drive leading to Rolling In The Clover.

  She paused at the entrance gate, stone pillars with the vineyard logo engraved on a slab of sandstone. The pavement meandered under a canopy of trees, stretching in the distance. Fields of grapevines on either side of the road trailed off to the horizon. She spied a large stone house, more of a villa, sitting atop a prominent rise in the distance.

  Just below, a car park sprouted in the middle of two buildings, one surely a tasting room, the other most likely the office. She aimed her car at the smaller building.

  Gravel crunched under her tires as she pulled into the lot and parked.

  “Oh, it’s pretty,” Mom said, her voice filled with awe as she swiveled her head around to take in all the scenery.

  “Remember, you’re here as my assistant. Don’t speak unless asked a question directly.” A word of caution went only a short distance with her headstrong mother.

  “Tick-a-lock.” Mom twisted her thumb and forefinger in front of her garish red lips.

  The constriction around Avalon’s chest that had eased as they’d driven up the lane tightened once again. It wasn’t a matter of when Guin would break her silence, but what she’d spew the second she did.

  Avalon stepped from the car and headed to the office. There was a sign hanging in the front window, indicating they were open. When she walked through the door, the space was empty and the phone on the desk was ringing.

  She pulled up short, having expected to see someone behind the desk. What was Will’s assistant’s name? “Meg?” she called out, hoping the woman was in the back.

  The cheery sound of the phone continued, each subsequent chirp becoming a jangle in Avalon’s ears. For her, the sound of a phone not being answered was worse than fingernails on a chalkboard.

  Guin brushed past her and rounded the desk. She reached for the phone.

  “Mom, don’t!”

  Her mother rolled her eyes and lifted the handset free. “Happy Friday. Guinevere speaking. How may I help you?”

  Ava rubbed her temples, willing the sudden pounding to cease.

  “I’m sorry, he isn’t in the office at the moment. May I take a message?” She plucked a pen from the cup on the desk and found a clean spot on the desk blotter. “Right. I have that number. I’ll be sure to give Will the message.”

  After bidding the caller a good day, Mom replaced the phone on the cradle. “That was the sheriff’s office. Someone named Meg made bail and has been released.”

  Will’s assistant had been in jail? It might have been helpful to know that. Behind her the door opened.

  She spun around to greet the newcomer. It wasn’t Will Bradford.

  A red-haired man with twinkling hazel eyes greeted them. “I bet you’re the organization engineer. I never thought I’d say this, but I believe Will is going to be ecstatic to see you.”

  “Hello. Yes, I’m Avalon Reese. And you are?” She let the question hang in the air.

  “Sorry, Drake Evans.” He extended his hand in an open, friendly greeting.

  “The accountant. You’ve been talking with Karen White.” Avalon glanced toward the desk where Guin had made herself comfortable, watching the pair of them as though they were actors on sta
ge. She gestured to her mother, a nonverbal demand to get her butt out of the chair. “My . . . assistant just answered the phone for you. Apparently Meg has been released.”

  “Damn. That was fast.” Drake pursed his lips and drummed his fingers on the desk butting up against the one where her mother sat. “Probably used the money she stole from Will to make bail.”

  “Um . . . come again?”

  “Ah, I take it Will didn’t inform you of the change in his office personnel. His former secretary has been skimming funds for the past few months. She’s no longer employed here. I’ve been filling in as I can, but I’m afraid I’m not a big help. Will is at his wit’s end. He’s pretty easygoing usually, but his disorganization has hit a new high.” Behind Drake, a man burst through the door of the tasting room, and sprinted across the lot toward the office. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

  Drake scooted to the left of the entry just as the door slammed open and Will Bradford tumbled across the threshold.

  “Sorry. Sorry I’m late.” The man was breathless after his pell-mell race across the car park.

  “You have nothing to apologize for. We were detained in Frisco with traffic. We’re running so far behind.” Avalon scrubbed her palm discreetly on her jeans before extending her arm. “I’m Avalon Reese. Nice to finally meet you in person.”

  Will grasped her hand in his, the tips of his nails and fingers stained purple. He sucked in a breath when their skin connected.

  She studied his nails, dismayed at the stains, but also a tiny bit turned on by the heat of his palm and the small calluses at the base of his fingers.

  He slowly released his grip, lowering his arm and curling his fingers inward, as though trying to retain the heat that had flared between them. “Hi, Ava.”

  Something sparked deep in her chest on hearing her shortened name on his lips. She’d fixated on his mouth when she’d first seen his picture upon accepting the assignment. And in person, it didn’t disappoint. She wondered what it would feel like to have his lips nibbling on the tender skin at the curve of her neck, hands tangled in her hair, pulling her against his long, hard body.

  Get a grip, Reese. He’s a client, for heaven’s sake. She struggled to bury the sexy thoughts deeper and not think about something else she’d like buried inside her. Clenching her fist behind her back, she dug her nails in to clear her wandering thoughts. “So . . .” God, she didn’t know how to continue.

  “Uh, I guess you figured out I’m one employee down.” He nodded toward Guin.

  Who still hadn’t relinquished her seat behind the desk, despite Avalon’s repeated urgings.

  “Yeah, um . . . Drake mentioned her. Want to tell me what happened?”

  “I took my eyes off the paperwork for a minute.”

  Drake grunted, earning him a scowl from Will. With a chuckle, Drake wagged a finger back and forth. “A minute?”

  “Okay, a little longer than that,” Will allowed. He rubbed a hand over his flat belly. “I discovered her perfidy three days ago. I haven’t even found the time to call a temp agency to find a replacement.”

  Guin ripped a piece of paper from the pad on the desk, and thrust it toward Will. “The county called to let you know the thieving bitch made bail.”

  Avalon groaned. This was exactly the same spot Mom had been in, except she’d been the thieving bitch. She couldn’t believe the woman didn’t even have the slightest blush on her cheeks given the similarities.

  “And I’m sure she did it with money stolen from me.” Will’s words were almost an exact echo of Drake’s earlier sentiments. His shoulders slumped as he slipped the paper in his pocket. “I guess I should have called someone already to find a replacement. I haven’t had a second to listen to the voicemails clogging the answering machine.”

  “Perhaps I can help,” Guin offered.

  No, Mom, no! Avalon prayed she’d keep her mouth shut.

  No such luck. Her mother arched her brows and beamed a smile at Will that could have charmed the clothes off the emperor. “I’ve worked in offices before, and know accounting and inventory systems. I’d be happy to fill in until you can find a permanent replacement.”

  “Mo . . . uh, Guin, I’m sure that won’t be necessary. We have other things for you to do.” Avalon scooted around the desk and pinched her mom’s bicep, praying she’d shut up immediately.

  “Really? That would be great.” A broad grin burst across Will’s face, displaying even white teeth.

  The smile lured Avalon deeper under his spell.

  She shook away her attraction and responded. “No! That isn’t a good idea.”

  Guin smirked at her. “What? Do you think I can’t handle it? Or maybe you think I’ll follow the footsteps of his former employee and steal from him.”

  A deer in the headlights was never so still or wide-eyed as Avalon must be at the moment. “No . . . I . . .”

  “Lightning never strikes twice in the same place.” Will clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “You’re hired.”

  “Will—”

  “Nope, it’s settled. I won’t give her access to the bank accounts. Drake can handle those aspects. But if you can spare—” he looked at Guin expectantly.

  “Guinevere,” she supplied.

  He beamed. “If you can spare Guinevere here to help me, wouldn’t it make me more efficient?”

  Avalon forced a smile, when all she wanted to do was bury her face in her hands. Or kick her mother’s ankle. “I guess that will be fine.”

  Will shot a victorious hand in the air. “That’s settled then. She can start first thing tomorrow.” He clapped Drake on the shoulder. “Want to help me drag their bags up to the villa? We need to get them settled in before dinner.”

  Chapter 10

  Will dropped Ava’s bags just inside the door to the second spare bedroom. “This is yours for as long as you’re here.”

  They’d left Guinevere in a tiny suite behind the kitchen. The small but sunny room had been the maid’s quarters when the villa had first been built in the twenties, back when the fields had been home to cattle. Once the Shasta Dam was in use, resulting in an abundant water supply, the owner’s thoughts had turned to grapes.

  At the moment, Will’s thoughts were trained on Ava’s trim figure, her pretty chestnut colored hair curling softly around her ears. Her raspberry tinted lips. He scrubbed his hand on the backside of his jeans, remembering the bolt of shocking electricity he’d experienced when she’d taken his hand in the office.

  He’d have to find more ways to touch her, in hopes of recreating the effect.

  Pushing desire to the back of his mind, he gestured down the long hall. “Bathroom is midway. Sorry, you’re going to have to share with me. My room is at the end of the hall.”

  She leaned to the side, peering around his shoulder. “Sharing a bathroom is fine. I’m pretty tidy and fast.” She eased past him into the room, a small, delighted sigh trickling from her lips as she took in her new accommodations. “It’s lovely.”

  God, he wanted to sip that sigh from her lips. “Huh?” Will looked at the room, trying to see what she was seeing.

  The furniture was old and battered. It had come with the house. The bed dominating the corner of the room had a gray sheet and rust-red blanket, with a patchwork quilt folded at the foot. The ceiling sloped over the bed, nearly touching the curved iron headboard. A dormer window cut into the roofline, and yellowing lace curtains lay limp against the dirty glass window.

  He sure as heck didn’t know what was so lovely about the cramped quarters. Embarrassment flooded him. Thanks to the timetable being rushed, Penny hadn’t gotten an opportunity to come back to fix up the joint. And God knew he’d been swamped. He buried the shame deep, and refocused on the woman in the bedroom with him.

  Av
a glided across the room to the desk he’d crammed under the eaves opposite the bed. The piece was carved with angels and clouds, a true throwback to forgotten craftsmanship. She squatted and traced her fingers along the lines and swirls. Even across the room, he heard contentment in her sigh.

  “It’s a work of art,” she declared as she rose. Carefully, she set her briefcase on the surface and stroked her fingers along the edge. “It will be a great spot to work.”

  Her smile hit him in the libido, heat suffusing his lower regions. Shifting uncomfortably, he reminded himself she’d been hired to help organize his business. Uncool to focus on thoughts of how freaking sexy she was. She wasn’t a plaything, not as if he had time anyway. But his body decried his mind, insisting it wanted a new playmate.

  “Um, it came with the house. I hope you’ll let me know if the bed is comfortable.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine. I don’t sleep a lot.” She eyed the bed critically then pressed her hands to the mattress. The springs squealed in protest.

  She was definitely a tactile person. The sight of her hands flattened on the blankets started blood pumping through his veins. She swept a gaze to the oversized chair near the foot of the bed. “If not, that chair will be fine. I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” Will tucked his hands in his pocket. “Why don’t you get settled, then find your way to the back patio. I’ll uncork some wine and we can get acquainted.”

  He strolled across the threadbare red and charcoal area rug and pulled the musty curtains to the side. Beckoning her over, he pointed to the seating group at the edge of the flagstone terrace.

  She eased in next to him, her breath catching as she took in the view. “Oh!”

  He caught a whiff of her light citrus scent, with undertones of cloves and something fresh and herbal. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, trying to identify the last notes. “Bergamot.”